


Entangled

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bonding, Dubious Consent, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sex Magic, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-13
Updated: 2010-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 08:32:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Misha dabbles in things he maybe probably shouldn't, and Richard should be more careful about what he drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a pinch-hit for [](http://technicallysane.livejournal.com/profile)[**technicallysane**](http://technicallysane.livejournal.com/) for the [](http://spnthreesome.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://spnthreesome.livejournal.com/)**spnthreesome** exchange.

Here’s the thing.

Misha’s always been a little more… _creative_ then he lets on. He’s always had a knack for mixing this and that, and coming up with something…significant. His _concoctions_ , for lack of a better term, are maybe potent in ways he doesn’t always expect, but they _always_ work. Vicki’s warned him, more than once, that he should be careful with them. That this _power_ of his, this skill he has at creating these things, could get him in trouble someday.

But it hasn’t up to this point, and Misha’s never used them for anything harmful. Never _would_ , either, because he’s just not wired that way.

His latest creation has been sitting gathering dust in the back of the smallest cabinet in his apartment’s kitchen, since there was still a fair amount left after its one-time use last year.

It’s the only one he’s ever used anywhere near the _Supernatural_ team, and he’d like to think that if Jensen or Jared knew about it, they’d choose to thank him. Not everyone is lucky enough to be drawn so unerringly to their soulmate, and before he came along, they spent _way_ too long dancing around each other and the issue at hand.

So he takes pride in his work, because he loves seeing them so happy these days, these people he’s come to consider friends.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t _freak the fuck out_ when, through no fault of his own, the potion somehow makes its way into the hands of someone it wasn’t exactly meant for.

~*~

“I’m not sure what I just drank,” Richard says, grimacing as he flops onto the couch and hands the flask off to Misha, “but it was _awful_. What the hell are you doing keeping that shit around here?” Misha’s staring down at the flask in something like horror, and Richard raises an eyebrow when he catches the expression. “What, were you saving it for a special occasion?” he asks, quirking a grin. “You told me to grab the alcohol, and that was all I could find in your pathetically understocked kitchen.”

“Um.” Misha very carefully places the flask on the coffee table, staring straight ahead at the television, back ramrod straight. If Richard didn’t know any better, he’d think the guy had seen a ghost. He’s _that_ pale.

“Hey man, you okay?” he asks, starting to get genuinely worried.

Slowly, Misha turns to look at him. “Uh…yeah. Yeah. Course I am.” He pauses, raking a hand through his perpetually messy hair. “Er. Are you?”

Richard snorts. “Aside from the lousy aftertaste, yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Misha nods. “Uh huh.” Takes a breath. “Well…good.” Another breath, and he seems a little steadier now. “Good.”

And as far as Richard can tell, that’s the end of it. With another slightly worried look at his friend, he shakes his head and turns back to the game. Trying to understand the mystery that is Misha Collins can wait until tomorrow.

~*~

Tomorrow comes, as tomorrows tend to do, and Richard’s gearing up for his first real day back on set when he first notices that something is…off. Like a pressure, or a… _tugging_ feeling, in his chest, and he rubs absently at the spot as he drives, wondering if he has any Tums or something in his trailer that he can take. First day back, the last thing he needs is heartburn.

The feeling doesn’t go away, but it’s not really _painful_ , and he has an easy enough time working through it, so he does his best just to ignore it as the day wears on.

Most of the scenes being shot today only require him and Misha, and Misha keeps tossing weird, concerned looks his way, but Richard’s become fairly adept at not paying any attention to Misha’s strangeness, so he gives a few reassuring smiles and keeps at it.

The sun is setting by the times Jensen and Jared show up, and that’s about the time Richard’s insides turn to molten lava, and the pressure on his chest goes taut, and it’s as he’s gasping and dropping to his knees that he realizes both Jensen and Jared are _glowing_.

He has just enough time to see Misha’s petrified look and to think ‘ _What the fuck?_ ’, and then everything goes dark.

~*~

He keeps his eyes closed, when he finally becomes aware of the world around him again. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, or what’s going on, but he’s comfortable, _warm_ , and the tugging sensation in his chest has eased considerably. He feels safe and cared for, in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, and even if he doesn’t understand it, he _likes_ it.

There’s a low murmur of voices, and he only catches snippets of the conversation. Misha’s voice, and Jared’s. Jared sounds angry, and Richard wishes he didn’t. It’s not _right_ , Jared being angry. Jared’s one of the happiest, most easygoing guys he knows.

He wonders, in a vague sort of way, where Jensen is, because one J is rarely without the other. He thinks maybe he asks the question aloud, because there’s a sudden tightening pressure around him that he’s just now recognizing as someone holding him.

And _oh_. _That’s_ where Jensen is. That’s good to know.

Without further thought, he burrows deeper into the warmth surrounding him, deeper into Jensen’s hold, and lets sleep pull him under again.

~*~

“Are we going to stay mad at him forever?”

That’s the question that Richard awakes to, in Jensen’s quiet voice, and Richard feels the younger man’s hand carding through his hair.

Jared’s response is just as softly spoken, from somewhere very close to where Richard and Jensen are lying, and it holds an edge that Jensen’s hadn’t. “Jen, what he did…he had no right to…”

“Maybe not, but do you really regret it?” Jensen asks, and Jared goes quiet.

Richard hasn’t the foggiest idea what they’re talking about, though he can guess it involves Misha somehow. He shifts, blinks bleary eyes open, and his gaze immediately catches Jared’s.

“Richard,” the younger man says, his eyes widening. He’s lying down, facing them from the other side of a bed Richard doesn’t recognize, in a room he’s never seen before. “Thought you were never gonna wake up, man, you had us worried.”

Richard tries to sit up, but Jensen’s arms tighten around him, his breath ghosting across Richard’s ear as he speaks. “May not want to do that. It gets worse if you’re not touching one of us.”

Richard stills. “What gets worse?” he asks, but he thinks he already knows. “The hell is going on?” He’s not actually angry, just…curious.

Which…okay, is a little strange, actually, but he can roll with it.

Behind him, Jensen sits up to lean against the headboard, keeping one hand firmly on Richard’s arm as he moves, and then he brings Richard up to sit beside him, their arms brushing. Now that he can, Richard turns toward Jensen, searches depthless green eyes for any clues he can find.

On his other side, Jared shifts closer, one hand settling on Richard’s thigh, brushing along the denim of his jeans. Richard’s going to get whiplash from how quickly he keeps looking back and forth between them, but he can’t seem to help it. “Uhh, guys? Wanna clue me in here?”

Jensen sighs, running a hand over his face tiredly. “Misha…did something.”

Richard stares blankly, waiting for more.

“The truth is,” Jared says, “we don’t really get it ourselves, entirely. But it kind of explains a lot. Jen and I… Not many people on set know this, but we’ve been together for almost a year now.”

Richard could have guessed that, but he stays quiet for now.

Jensen takes over again. “It happened really suddenly. Like, one day we were playing Mario Kart and punching each other on the arm, and the next, it was like _bam_. Right there, out of the blue, and there was no stopping it. We didn’t really think too much of it, maybe just too caught up in _each other_ at the time, but apparently Misha…created something. This…drug, or whatever, that he dosed us with that…drew us to each other. That way.”

Wait. _What?_

“He told us it’s designed to help people find their…soulmates,” Jared says, “and that he was just using it to help us. He didn’t plan on ever using it again, except that you…” He trails off.

“Drank it,” Jensen finishes, his gaze piercing. “You drank it on accident, and you got drawn to us.”

“And now that you’ve taken it, we’re equally drawn to you,” Jared adds softly, his grip on Richard’s leg tightening for a brief moment before he visibly forces himself to relax it.

Half of what they’re saying doesn’t make a lick of sense, but they’re not wrong. Richard _is_ drawn to them, on a level he can’t fully comprehend. But he’s been drawn to them from the moment he met them, even if it’s never been quite like this. This warmth, spreading through him where they touch him, this feeling of _belonging_ he can’t shake…

“So what does this all mean?” he finally forces himself to ask.

Jensen and Jared look at each other, something unreadable in their gazes, before Jared finally looks back at him and swallows. “The second we’re not touching you, now that it’s been…activated…you won’t be able to move. It’ll be like a vise around your chest. You can’t think, or breathe, or…” He swallows again. “It gets bad. Really bad.” He sounds like he’s speaking from experience. “And Misha says there’s only one way to break it.”

“We have to…bind you to us, for lack of a better term,” Jensen says, looking uncomfortable. “It’s…it requires sex.”

Richard’s mind blanks, white noise blocking out the next few bits of dialogue. By the time he can focus again, Jared’s hand is grasping his shoulder, and he’s talking frantically.

“Richard, you never asked for this. Just say the word, and we’ll find another way. We’ll get Misha here and…do _something_.”

But that isn’t… That isn’t what he wants, is it? He wants _this_ , or at least he’s pretty sure he does. This, right here, trapped between Jensen and Jared and their warmth, it’s the best he’s felt, the best place he’s _been_ , in so goddamn long, and he…

God, he really does. He _wants_ this. If they do. If they ever _could_.

There’s another question, too. The one he’s not really letting himself focus on, the one he won’t ask them because it’s too big, too open, too…

_Everything._

If this is happening, does that mean they’re really his…soulmates?

The idea should be preposterous, but somehow it’s… _not_.

He takes a breath, releases it slowly. And when his eyes find Jared’s again, Jared must see the answer in their depths, because the younger man’s sudden smile is blinding, and then he’s leaning over, brushing his lips over Richard’s, and everything – _everything_ – suddenly slots into place.

~*~

They fit together, in the spaces between quickened heartbeats and gasping breaths, in the calmness of a whispered stroke of skin and the franticness of a desperate tug of hair. They take him together, and Richard has never been so grateful to be owned so completely. He loses himself, in every kiss, in every cry, in every word of love that falls from unguarded lips.

It builds between the three of them, something so all-encompassing he can’t possibly comprehend it, until it reaches a breaking point and explodes, and all there is is _them_ , and all they are is _together_ , and all that matters is _connection_.

Bonds snap into place, and Richard is flooded with awareness of these two people he never realized how much he cared for until right this moment. Jensen’s quiet joy in finding this, his gentle gratitude for Richard giving it a chance, and Jared’s exuberance at this new aspect of something he already cherished so deeply, his eagerness to delve into it and explore it more.

It feels _right_.

It feels like _home_.

Sleep comes on gentle wings, and he dreams of Jensen and Jared.

~*~

What it comes down to is this: Misha would very much like to take credit for the shy smiles and the obvious joy shining on all three of their faces the following Monday morning. But really, he’s too firm a believer in fate for that. So maybe he was an _agent_ of destiny, and if that’s the case, then he’s honored for being given the chance. But what happened was clearly meant to happen, as batshit insane as it seems.

So he grins at them, shakes his head a little when Richard tries to pull him aside to thank him (or deck him, Misha’s admittedly a little unclear on which it might have been), and contents himself with the knowledge that at least he didn’t actually fuck up _too_ badly, all things considered.

He also reminds himself to never, _ever_ leave a half-used flask of _anything_ he creates lying around again, or else he’s afraid his wife may actually kill him. Or give him another very stern talking-to, and when it comes to Vicki and her talking-toos, that can be just as bad.

And he _also_ plans out his next order of business.

There must be _something_ he can come up with that will give him the power of invisibility. And just _think_ of all the things he could do with something that useful?


End file.
